


love you 'til your eyes roll back

by transstevebucky



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Daryl Dixon, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:06:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transstevebucky/pseuds/transstevebucky
Summary: It’s not like Daryl can’t live without sex.It’s more like, since they’ve started settling down, since he and Paul started their thing, his body has become deeply aware of just how much he missed it, craved it. And.That’s not really his fault, now, is it.





	love you 'til your eyes roll back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveLongAndLove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLongAndLove/gifts).



> hey dudes! 
> 
> in this fic, daryl is a trans man. in this fic there's no anal sex, only vaginal sex, so if that squicks you, i wouldn't read it! as a trans man myself, i get how that might be offputting to some people.
> 
> his genitalia is referred to the way i am most comfortable with personally (there's two uses of the word cunt, one of the word pussy), and he exclusively refers to his 'clit' as his cock. again, if that triggers any dysphoria at all, please take care of yourself first and foremost.
> 
> last of all, this isn't at all how i view all trans people. we are not a monolith! every person is different, trans or cis alike. this is just what i, personally, enjoy, and what this version of daryl happens to like.
> 
> they're both gay men! it's beautiful! they be fuckin!
> 
> title from Bed by j holiday

It’s not like Daryl _can’t_ live without sex.

Before the world turned to shit, he gave into it maybe a few times a month, letting himself get fucked up against the wall of his apartment, sweat dripping down his jaw, panting like a bitch in heat.

And then the world turned to shit, and it’s not like the first thing on his mind at any given moment was how good it felt to be filled up and _used_ , marked like a belonging.

So. He resigned himself to using a vibrator he found on a run along with a couple different sized sex toys for when he needed to feel so full it burned in his gut, and occasionally he got lucky with one of the guys from Woodbury, or whoever was around and willing at the time.

It’s more like, since they’ve started settling down, since he and Paul have started their _thing_ , his body has become deeply aware of just how much he missed it, _craved_ it. And.

That’s not really his fault, now, is it.

+++

There was a guy, once, before the end of the turn, who made him come so hard he couldn’t think for half an hour afterwards.

The guy’d fucked his throat and tugged his hair and slid three fingers inside of him, spread them wide, watched Daryl gape around him with a smirk on his mouth that made Daryl feel utterly fucking _filthy_.

Daryl’s whole body had fucking quaked with the force of his orgasm, and ever since then he’s used that as jerk-off material, like any other self-respecting and vaguely horny man.

Now, watching Paul walk around the trailer completely naked except for a ridiculous pair of rainbow socks, he starts wondering if maybe this is his new jerk-off fodder. If maybe watching Paul drink water from the tap in the bathroom like some kind of animal is something that’s gonna come roaring back into his head when he’s three fingers deep and begging for it.

Probably.

“What’re you looking at,” Paul yawns, face pressed against the sink, eyes drooping, “‘m a mess.”

Daryl is, suddenly, hyper aware of the fact they’ve been dating for a month now (if that is what they’re doing? Daryl’s pretty sure it is. Fuck. He should talk about this at some point.), and that they haven’t fucked at all in that time.

There’s been some heavy petting, Paul climbing into Daryl’s lap and sucking on his neck and grinding down until Daryl’s entire fucking body went hazy, but besides that…

Nothing.

“Your socks are a crime against my goddamn eyes,” Daryl tells him, “c’mere.”

Paul snorts and trots over, stands at the end of the bed with his hands on his hips like some avenging angel, swinging cock and all. Like a pendulum. Daryl… Cannot. Stop. Staring.

Paul has one arched eyebrow when Daryl finally looks back up at his face, and Daryl flushes.

The phantom ache in his throat from being fucked is-. Definitely a thing, right no.

“You know,” Paul tells him, and Daryl moves back as he slides onto the bed on his knees, “you could just ask. Politely. Like a human being.”

Daryl pinches his hip, leans up into Paul’s kiss with every bit of muscle he’s got in his body, fingers pressed into the sheets for leverage.

Paul gasps when Daryl fucks his mouth with his tongue, when he slides forward until he’s pressed against Paul almost entirely from shoulders to knees. “Okay,” Paul sighs, leaning back, cheeks already gorgeously pink, “asking’s not your thing, alright.”

“You want this?” Daryl asks, anyway, even though he can feel how obviously Paul wants it, cock already stirring where it presses into Daryl’s stomach.

“Yes,” Paul says, emphatic, and leans back down to kiss Daryl’s jaw, quick and biting, “God, yes. I’ve been fucking _waiting-._ ”

“Could’ve just asked,” Daryl mocks, and gets a bitten lip for his troubles.

He can feel himself getting hard, slick pooling in his boxers, and he just wants-.

“How do you want this?” Paul asks, because Paul is a mature person despite the fact he leaves his knives everywhere, all the fucking time.

Daryl leans back, rocks his hips against Paul’s again, watches the way his boyfriend’s eyes go darker with the movement, mouth dropping open just a little.

“Fuck me.” Daryl breathes, and then flushes, “if, uh-. If you want.”

“If I-.” Paul takes a moment to visibly pull himself together, and then rolls his eyes. “Like I haven’t been thinking about fucking you since the moment we met.”

As if Daryl hasn’t been thinking the same thing since Paul was all sprawled in that truck, Daryl’s own gun raised in his face, the heavy lift-and-drop of his chest.

“God,” Daryl whines, “ _please_.”

Paul closes his eyes tight. His cock twitches against Daryl’s thigh, thick and hot.

God, Daryl wants to fucking _taste it_.

“Christ.” Paul takes a breath, sits on his haunches, and opens the crate they use as a bedside table. When he comes back, cheeks redder than before, there’s a condom and a bottle of lube caught between his fingers.

Daryl stares at the condom. The condom, it seems, stares back.

He knows it’s fucking stupid. Safe sex is important. He’s been with people before. _Paul_ has been with people before.

It’s just-. He keeps thinking about the idea of Paul pressing him into the mattress, fucking him until he cries, watching the come leak out of him, licking him loose and then making Daryl _taste_ it. Making him sit there and know he’s been marked.

“Are you,” he starts, “clean.”

Paul cocks his head, and then his eyes blow black.

A little while back, the Kingdom brought in a couple new people; doctors, people who specifically worked in sexual health. Everyone got tested, as a mandatory requirement, and Daryl knows for a fact that he _is_ clean, at least as of three months ago.

And it’s not like he’s been having sex since then.

“Yeah.” Paul’s breath sounds a little strangled in his throat. “God, yeah. You-. You’re not going to-. Right?”

Daryl snorts. “Nah, I ain’t gonna get pregnant, you goddamn idiot.”

He had a hysto for that exact reason, a couple years before the turn. Add onto that the several years of testosterone, yeah. He ain’t getting knocked up.

“Okay,” Paul says, and then, “any boundaries?”

 _Can we get to the part where you fuck my brains out already_ , Daryl thinks, but he knows this is important and part of sex.

It’s just that he’s been wanting Paul so long now it’s all he can think about. Paul’s hands on slick skin, fingers working inside of him, Paul’s mouth tonguing at his cock, beard leaving red marks along the sensitive skin of his thighs.

Boundaries? Fuck that.

“Nah. You?”

“Hm,” Paul murmurs, “with you, sexy? No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” Daryl says, and pushes Paul back. “That killed the mood for me. I’m huntin’.”

“No!” Paul laughs, and drags him back, “fuck, I was joking. You are, though, you know that? Fucking gorgeous.”

“Shut up.”

But a part of him likes it. Likes being complimented. Christ knows he spent enough money on this goddamn body back when that mattered.

Paul rolls his eyes. Daryl drags his hand towards him and sucks gently on his fingertip, the fresh taste of him. Paul stops rolling his eyes, then. He looks a little too breathless to do much else than keep his lungs going.

“Fuck, baby,” Paul says, and Daryl’s cock twitches, and oh. Okay. So maybe that’s a pet name he does like. “You’re so gorgeous for me.”

 _Yes_ , Daryl thinks, _now fuck me._

He shuffles back on the bed, uses his elbows as leverage, and Paul climbs up his body, thighs settled either side of his chest. Paul’s hand settles over the curve of Daryl’s throat, and Daryl tries really fucking hard not to press into it just to get some of the thrill of being choked. That’s the kind of thing that requires actual talking, and he cannot… fucking handle that, right now.

So, he just sits back and watches Paul’s face, the way his mouth drops open, wet and pink, the thick curve of his biceps.

“You gonna fuck me, or you just gonna wait around all day?”

Paul lets out a shaky breath. “I hate you.”

He still starts pulling at Daryl’s boxers, though, so he can’t be too deeply offended.

The thin cotton material is already dark from how slick he’s gotten, sticking to him as Paul drags them down with careful fingers, lip caught between his teeth. Daryl’s breath catches, hips rocking towards Paul’s hand, trying to find some kind of friction, and when the head of his cock brushes his thumb Daryl actually whimpers aloud.

“Fuck.” Paul murmurs. “Look at you, sweetheart. So fucking wet for me.”

Daryl shudders.

Paul slides down, down, down, body settling between Daryl’s spread thighs, breath hot on his cock, and Daryl feels like he’s fucking dying. “I’m gonna suck you off, baby. That okay with you?”

“ _Please_.”

The first touch of Paul’s tongue on his cock feels like a thousand live wires caught between his spinal cord. Wet, slow, trailing up him and moving closer with it. He takes Daryl’s cock into his mouth, moaning around it, tongue sliding against the folds around it, and there’s already precome on his chin, glistening in his beard.

Daryl moans, trembles, fists his hands in the sheets to try and keep some kind of grip on reality while Paul goes to work, opening him up on his tongue like it’s nothing, like it’s what he wants to be doing. Daryl holds himself open, fingers pressing his folds to the side, and Paul shakes a little with it, eyes closing as he moans against Daryl’s hole, the vibrations sending shocks through him.

“Paul,” he mumbles, and he knows he sounds a mess, tries to cover his face with his arm but doesn’t get very far when Paul fucking _sucks_ , tongue curling around the sensitive flesh of his cock and pulling, “ _oh, God_.”

Paul, despite all his flaws, does not make the obvious joke.

Daryl hooks his legs around Paul’s shoulders, drawing him closer, and Paul fucks his tongue inside Daryl’s hole, the hot slurp of it making Daryl throb. He’s already getting close, body clenching with the need to come, and by the time Paul’s rolling a thumb against his cock, he’s _gone_.

His body shakes while Paul licks him through it, come smearing all over his cheeks and beard, and _fuck_ , if that imagery alone isn’t enough to make Daryl tense up again, neck bent backwards.

He’s making these pathetic little noises, hitched breaths and whining keens, hips rocking forward to get friction

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Paul groans, “you taste incredible.”

Daryl moans, bends his head to bite into the pillow so he doesn’t get too goddamn loud while Paul goes back to kissing him everywhere, cleaning him up, come like pearls on his pink tongue.

“Please,” Daryl whines, and God, he needs to stop overusing that goddamn word, fuck, “fuck me, Paul, need it-. Need you inside me, fillin’ me, usin’ me, I-.”

Paul rocks his hips into the mattress, and Daryl clenches up around him, thighs tight around his ears.

“Okay, baby,” Paul says, shaking, a little, “you wanna move back a little?”

Daryl does, letting his knees drop and legs stay spread while Paul props a pillow under his hips and leans up between them, letting his chest drop to touch Daryl’s. “Kiss me.”

Paul obeys, and it’s not slow and sweet, not at all. It’s all heat, tongue and spit and teeth, Paul’s tongue fucking into his mouth, and Daryl can taste himself, the tang of it, can feel some of his come still in Paul’s mouth, and he moans into it, shaking at the feeling, at the taste.

He needs it, desperately, and he slips one hand between them to catch Paul’s cock in his hand, lowering it to his cunt to let Paul feel the slick wetness there, the heat.

Paul’s breath catches and then stops, eyes rolling just a little when Daryl pulls back to watch. “Oh. _Oh._ ”

Daryl leans up, mouth to Paul’s ear, and grins. “Now _fuck me_.”

Paul shivers, and Daryl kisses his cheek, the stickiness of the come drying there, licks down his jaw and catches some of his beard, tastes his own come for real in the hair there. “Daryl, baby, you’re gonna kill me. Gonna come before I even get in you.”

“Guess you’d have to fuck me on somethin’ else,” Daryl says, voice low, “guess you’d just have to watch me fuck myself, take two fingers, three. Four. A fist. Get wet enough for that, sometimes, you know that? Only thing that stops me is the angle. An’ once I get it in, I don’t ever wanna be empty again.

Daryl feels Paul’s cock pulse at that, feels the first drooling line of precome down his cock and over his hole, and then he’s the one shaking, thinking about Paul coming in him, fingers squelching in the mess of it.

He fucks himself for a moment, two fingers sliding in easily with how turned on he is, how wet he’s gotten, and Paul watches between their bodies like it’s the best show of all time, like it’s all he’s ever wanted to see.

“Ready?” Paul asks, even though he knows, even though he can see the way Daryl’s left gaping slightly before he closes up again, twitching and soaked.

“Paul,” Daryl says, and then, because he’s sort of an asshole and also sort of wants to know, “sir. Please.”

It does the trick. Paul’s shoulders tighten for a moment, and he has to close his eyes while he finds Daryl’s hole, and Daryl guides him there, too, holding himself open with two fingers, thumb stroking his oversensitive cock.

Paul’s thick, long, and Daryl’s not exactly a size king, but he fucking loves being able to _feel_ it, aching the next day, for hours after the guy’s pulled out. His head’s flared, and it tugs on his walls, makes the breath rush out of him because it’s been so fucking _long_ since he had something real like this.

Paul trembles between his thighs. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Daryl goads, “c’mon. Fuck me. Really fuck me, fill me up, Paul, mark me.”

 

Paul bites at Daryl’s neck as he slides in, teeth marking him up while he sucks hard, and Daryl’s eyes roll back from the combination of sensations, the sweet ache of it, the burn of the stretch, and the way his neck tingles from Paul’s bearded jaw. He hopes he gets beard burn from it. God, he really fucking hopes.

He sounds wet, sloppy and messy, ready to be used, slick sounds filling the trailer as Paul rocks his hips slowly at first and then more strongly, until Daryl feels like every breath is being punched out of him on a moan.

“Gotta do better’n that,” Daryl grunts, purposefully tightening up around Paul’s length, and Paul groans, deep and reedy. “Stuff me full, sir.”

“You’re,” Paul chokes out, cheeks dark, “so fucking tight, I-.”

“Wanna be loose.” Daryl tells him, and hooks his fingers into Paul’s ass, using it as leverage to get him deeper, _more_. “Wanna feel your come drip outta me. Know I’m yours. You gonna give that to me, sir? Gonna be good to me?”

“Holy fucking shit.”

Paul moans, head dropping into Daryl’s throat while his hips work, rolling in little figure of eight motions that make Daryl’s eyes shut tight, fingers clawing at the soft skin of Paul’s back. He knows there’ll be marks there later, knows that every time he sees them, _thinks_ about them, he’ll start wanting to be fucked and used again. Start to get phantom feelings of being full and loved and breathless.

Daryl thumbs over his cock, stomach churning with heat and need, so close again already. He’s always been a slut for this; the ache, the pulse of being fucked, the ricocheting of feelings that spread all over his body, thighs tingling and tightening in response. His toes curl, and he feels himself start to tighten up, pulse. Head pushing back hard, chest rising off the bed to meet Paul’s, moaning so loud he’d feel ashamed if he weren’t right in the middle of it all.

Paul groans and shudders and rocks in harder, the sound slick and dirty now that Daryl’s clenching up tight as he comes, and it takes Daryl a moment to realise he’s moaning words, “baby, fuck, so fucking good, look at you, coming for me again. Such a good boy.”

And that’s it. His vision whites out for a moment, hands going tight and then immediately flattening while he comes, heels digging into Paul’s back to get even more pressure, to feel the burn of it. He feels himself soak the sheets, hears the wet as Paul fucks into him harder, rougher.

Then the tremble through Paul’s entire body as he comes, the way he goes rigid and then collapses as his cock spasms, sending pulses of his seed right inside him, marking Daryl up just like he wanted.

“Oh, God,” Daryl whimpers, “oh, fuck, _fuckfuckfuck_. Nngh. Baby, sir, please, I-.”

It’s so much, and he might come again; he’s not sure, so overtaken by pleasure his body’s moving of its own accord, one hand touching his cock and pressing down, the other playing slowly with a nipple, loving the feeling of both combined.

“Oh,” Paul whines, and he finally stops coming, cock going still inside Daryl’s cunt, slowly softening, “Jesus.”

“That’s-.” Daryl’s breath catches when Paul kisses him, no longer frantic but so fucking gentle it makes Daryl kind of want to cry, he’s so wild with all the endorphins. “Your name, don’t wear it out.”

“You’re,” Paul says, and his voice sounds wrecked, utterly fucking destroyed. Sweat mats his hair at his temples, and Daryl leans up to kiss him there, sweet presses to his tangy skin, “fucking amazing, but I hate you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” But he still holds Paul in place for a second longer, feeling the slow ooze of come slide out of him.

Paul sighs, moans again when Daryl clenches, sounding like he might sob. “Christ.”

When he pulls loose, Daryl _feels_ the hot come leak down his thighs, over his pussy lips, and goes to touch it, to taste, before Paul’s moving back down between his thighs, and _no,_ surely fucking not-.

Only he does.

“You’re filthy,” Daryl sobs, but he’s seeing stars anyway, feeling the way Paul’s tongue wriggles inside of him, slick and hot and strong with muscle, “fuck, sir, c’mon, I wanna taste it.”

Paul moans against him, and Daryl has to press on his cock hard to deal with the overstimulation of it, the buzz along his spine. Paul pulls back, then, come in his beard, eyes a little frantic, and Daryl tugs him close and tastes how he’s wanted to for ages. Salty and tangy and fucking perfect, come thick where he swallows it from Paul’s tongue.

“Can I,” Daryl asks, slow, brain still not functioning entirely perfectly, “clean y’off?”

“Oh, God, baby,” Paul says, but then he’s climbing over Daryl anyway, softening cock at Daryl’s mouth, and _finally_.

He’s thick, hard to take in, and Daryl sucks his taste and Paul’s own come off the sensitive skin with all the care in the world, loving and gentle as can be, since Paul’s already trembling. If Paul wasn’t already on the verge of feeling too much, Daryl’d probably take him in, let Paul fuck his throat.

As it is, he can feel Paul’s cock getting harder on his tongue, twitching pathetically against the roof of his mouth. Daryl moans against him, and Paul manages one more spurt of come, hitting his throat slow and far back enough he can barely taste it.

He pulls back, presses a kiss to the head, and Paul moans brokenly, hair a mess of a halo around his face.

Daryl takes a shaky breath, and Paul rolls off him, back flat against the sheets even though they’ve rucked up and it has to be at least slightly uncomfortable. Daryl strokes the soft skin over his stomach, fingers trailing through the dark hair there.

“I think,” Paul mumbles, face pressed into Daryl’s shoulder, “that you killed me.”

“What a way to go.”

Paul giggles into his shoulder, and they fall asleep like that, sated and covered in come and sweat.

Maybe Daryl can’t live without sex, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> @sarah i hope u enjoyed this!!!! :o!! 
> 
> tumblr: gaydaryl  
> twitter: transrickgrimes
> 
> i love comments/kudos etc <3


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